He gulped down the remnant of the Domaine Leroy Musigny Grand Cru wine glistening in his wineglass as his eyes followed the every move of the stripper before him as the soft music played in the background.

He was currently in one of the clubs he owned in Manhattan. He had hundreds of them across New York, thousands across the country and millions across the globe. 

There were two females hanging off of him and a third one who was currently pole dancing before him. A blonde in a hot pink lingerie, a redhead in a baby blue one and the stripper, who was a brunette, was in a fiery red-hot lingerie.

He had discarded his suit jacket and tie as he sat in his plain white T–shirt with a few buttons undone, revealing his ravishingly tanned chest. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, making his forearm muscles be on show.  

The blonde and redhead let their hands roam round his body as wet kisses followed wherever their hands touched. His eyes were trained on the brunette dancing before him, his cold eyes boring holes into her half naked body but his mind was far from his body. 

He blinked back to reality before reaching for his empty wineglass. Without looking at her, he motioned for the blonde to fill his glass with the wine. She fearfully did so and as she poured, a bit of the wine spilled on his hand due to how hard her hands shook.

In fear and despair, her eyes immediately widened as she stilled. The redhead, having noticed her friend's slip up, also stiffened in fear for her friend's life. They all knew the man they were dealing with. Everyone knew who Jordan Kale was.

They had all heard different tales of his ruthlessness though not one of them had exactly experienced it. They believed that whoever was on the receiving end of his wrath never lived to tell the tale because it was the harsh reality; Dead men don't talk.

Feeling the cold drop trickle down his hand, he slowly turned his head towards the blonde, his expression frozen solid. She immediately dodged her head and went down on her knees, clasping her hands in plea for her life.

“I. . . I'm so sorry, sir. It was not i–intended. Please. . . I'm r–really sorry,” she stammered as she shivered in fear, her face as pale as a white paper sheet. 

The brunette had sensed the shift in the atmosphere and she peeked just in time to see her blonde friend kneel before the cold-blooded and desensitized devil. She gulped and feared for her friend's life but she dared not stop dancing since his attention was solely on her.

Jordan sipped his wine, still looking at the blonde. The tangy and nippy yet sour taste of the Burgundy wine ran down his throat, leaving a bitter effect. He tauntingly moved closer towards her, looking deep into her soul. She knew the best thing to do would be to look away but she couldn't when his eyes held her in place.

She couldn't even run if she wanted to. The exit was barricaded by a couple of tall and hefty guards. There was no escape. She was just like a mouse surrounded by a group of cats. 

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers when she saw him raise his wine–drenched hand and move it towards her. She turned rigid when she felt him wipe his hand on the swell of her breasts which was on show due to the pint–sized lingerie she wore.

He immediately went back to his original position as though nothing had happened, stunning the life out of the blonde. She immediately scrambled to her feet and sat beside him again, unable to keep the strawberry pink colour from invading her white cheeks. 

She felt hot. His mere touch had left her wanting and craving for more. She squirmed in her seat as she felt her core already wet and throbbing with desire. He was a dangerous man, ruthless, heartless, wouldn't think or even bat an eyelash when it came to ending a life but even with all these qualities, he was an undeniably striking man. 

Calling him a sight for sore eyes was a mere understatement compared to his beauty. He couldn't be described as a man of ethereal beauty, no. Nothing about him was heavenly. He was carved from the pits of hell. Like the Lucifer walking amidst mortals, he was sinisterly beautiful. 

This was a man that made women drool at the mere sight of him. A man that made women question if it was the same God that created their husbands or fiance and this devilish beauty before them. He was craved by all, yet attainable by none. He was too hot and dangerous to touch or have. A wild, untameable plague that could destroy whatever stood in his path in seconds yet everyone seemed so drawn to him.

She suddenly wanted him. She was scared out of her wits but still she craved him. So with that thought in mind, she moved her hands across his chest, inching dangerously closer to his member. 

He made no reaction, no expression, his face completely blank and expression completely bleak. She took his bleakness as a positive response as she went lower, past his taut and rock hard abs. An accomplished smirk made its way unto her face as she felt his belt buckle.

Ignoring the ‘do you have a death wish?’ look from her redhead friend, she dared to grip the rod, only for a strong, merciless hand to grip her neck.

She paled as she felt the air get knocked out of her, making her grip onto the hand in fear. Her eyes widened further as she felt his hand tighten around her throat, squeezing it tightly.

The hand guided her face to look into the eyes of its owner. She found herself looking into pitch–black eyes of immeasurable depths. They pulled her in, caged her in and stripped her bare. She felt him looking into her soul and suddenly she was lost. She struggled to look away but she couldn't.

The hand went tighter and she gasped for breath but the oxygen didn't seem to be available. She felt tears trickle down her cheeks and she couldn't help but feel like her end was near. She could feel her eyes slowly rolling to the back of her head and she couldn't help but bite her lower lip in regret. 

She regretted wanting a man she knew was right before her yet he was so out of everyone's reach. Her desire and need had gotten the best of her. She had wanted to test the waters and now, she was drowning in them. 

Her face was turning a shade of purple and she was about to give into the darkness that was calling her until she heard a male voice call out.

“J.K.” 

Jordan's head snapped towards the intruder and he was ready to gorge his/her eyes out, slowly killing the intruder yet still keeping him very much alive. He wasn't currently in the right state of mind. He never has been normal since he was a kid but tonight, he was extra crazy and the whore before him had decided to cross her boundaries. 

He was determined to teach her a lesson, seeing as she hadn't learned from rumours or news reports. He was enjoying slowly watching the life slip from her. He was taking it easy on her, barely controlling himself as he thought of the countless things he could do to her.

“Let her go, J,” the voice came again lazily and he looked up, his eyes coming into focus as he took in his best friend's tired expression. He continued to stare, not moving an inch and he could feel the grip she had on his hand weaken. 

“Listen to me, J. You do not want to do this. Trust me,” Keelan warned as he sat and continued to look at Jordan expectantly. Jordan took a deep breath before pulling away, hating the fact that his friend was right.

The blonde immediately crumpled to the ground, just in time to be caught by her two friends. She looked really lifeless and pale as she coughed and wheezed her lungs out, trying to catch her breath.

They gently shook her and held her to themselves as they tried to get her to calm down. Jordan saw the imprint of his hand on her neck like an inkless tattoo but he couldn't care less. She got exactly what she deserved.

“Get out of my sight,” he spoke, his voice thick with venom. As though they were robots programmed to carry out his every command, the two girls immediately got up and helped their friend up, hastily leaving the presence of the two men. Even as the door shut behind them, he could still hear her pained coughs as they faded into the background.

Keelan let out a long deep sigh as he reached for the bottle of wine — amongst other empty ones — in front of his friend before pouring himself a glass, letting the familiar taste slide down and moisten his dry throat. 

He's had a very long and tiring trip and when he had stopped over at his friend's office on his way home from the airport, only to find it empty — which was a bit unusual — seeing as it was still a Wednesday, he had called Skull to ask about Jordan's whereabouts. 

Owen Skull was the huge dark skinned man that was currently standing at the door with Jordan's suit jacket in one hand and a tablet in the other. He was adorned in his usual attire, a black suit, white T–shirt peeking underneath with black pants and shoes, let's not forget the shiny black wristwatch laced on his wrist. He also had an earpod in his right ear, from which an occasional blue light would blink and his eyes were covered in dark shades.

I know you may currently be thinking, ‘Who wears shades inside a room and at night time in general?’ but it came with the requirement of being the leader of the security team to the Mafia leader of the J.K. clan.

He was Jordan's most trusted guard and henchman. He had been working for Jordan for almost two decades and he knew all about Jordan's past. He always accompanied Jordan anywhere anytime. He was the first person Jordan had recruited into the clan. Jordan had found and helped him during the darkest days of his life and he had repaid the favour by being by Jordan's side ever since.

Keelan had worried about his friend but when Skull had explained what had happened, he knew his friend would go somewhere to try and numb the guilt, so he had immediately driven here and arrived just in time to stop him from committing another murder today.

He didn't need more guilt and regret on his shoulders and thankfully, he hadn't put up much of a fight like usual. 

Keelan looked over at his friend and before him, was a man broken beyond repair. The disco lights from the poling stage illuminated on one side of his face, leaving the other side in darkness. It successfully gave him a more grim aura. His eyes followed a red stain on the collar of Jordan's shirt and he heaved a sigh when he saw a pretty long and deep cut on the right side of his neck, facing him. It had dried blood all around it and it didn't look good at all.

“You should treat that,” he mumbled, referring to the cut but he only got an echoing silence in reply. 

He looked away and kept his eyes on the black bead bracelet around Jordan's right wrist. It wasn't anything luxurious, just made with plain old black beads, but that bracelet meant the world to him and he would most definitely kill whoever dared to touch them.

“Were you able to track them down?” Keelan asked, referring to the mission Jordan had told him he had to finish once and for all today.

“Hmm. . .” he hummed in response.

“So I'm guessing it went well?” he was trying to get him away from his thoughts. Brooding Jordan spelled terror.

“The fucking bastard should be crawling his way to hell right now,” he mumbled.

“I see,” he nodded and dared to ask, “How do you feel?” he looked closely at him, trying to gauge his expression but like always, Jordan was excellent at hiding his feelings behind a stony face. Over the years, he had built an immense wall, one as strong and as high as the Great Wall of China, hindering everyone, even Keelan and Carol—his own sister—from getting anywhere close.

The question hung in the grim air and Jordan made no move to answer it. He just stared. Stared at the shiny pole standing at the corner of the room embedded into the ceiling and down into a pedestal type floor, like a mini stage, where the brunette had earlier been.

“How’s Carol doing?” he decided to change the subject.

“Good,” It was a lie. He didn't know how his sister had been faring. The last time he spoke to her was about a week ago and they had argued in his office over such a trivial matter.

She had insisted on him visiting a therapist like she had been doing because he had gone through much worse things than she had but he had outright shunned the idea. She had pleaded with him but seeing as he wouldn't budge on his decision, she had only packed her bags and left with a curt goodbye.

She had called to tell him that she had gotten home safely so he wouldn't be worried and had immediately hung up, not waiting to hear his response. Since then, she hadn't called and he hadn't called either. He had been too focused on his mission. He had to call her first thing tomorrow.

“Ok then,” the vague one worded responses he was getting from his friend was killing him but he knew better than to flare up at a brooding Jordan. It wasn't the wisest thing to do. Even as they were very close friends and all, they still clashed sometimes and their fights always left a trail of destruction behind.

“Go home, Keelan. I don't need a babysitter,” Jordan said and stood up to leave before Keelan could come up with another question to ask.

He could only watch as his friend stalked out the room but not before giving Skull a message to relay to the manager. He had said;

“Get me a girl for the night.”

•  •  •  •  •